I agree with you wholeheartedly, Polytropos, in that I don’t think Christians in general are called to be so scrupulous, that any form of pleasure and satisfaction derived from moral behavior is counted as selfishness. Indeed, virtue is conceived of as its own reward, so one can indeed have the satisfaction, and reap the inner of peace, of knowing one has done the “right thing.”
From a Christian perspective, though, I could see a built-in hazard in the work example that you cited. Generally, if the boss asks you for a favor, you do it — partially because there is satisfaction in helping others and because it’s perhaps the right thing to do, partially because it’s in your practical interest to do so.
But what if your boss either says something, or does something, that violates your conscience? What if you’re a Catholic nurse who has just started a job, and – on your second day of work – your boss has asked you to do something you consider profoundly immoral? These are tough questions, especially if you’re a nurse who’s been out of work for several months, and a single mother, and with mouths to feed at home.
Catholicism doesn’t guarantee that painful sacrifices aren’t sometimes morally necessary; or is it less of a sin, if you participate in something immoral, because you had compelling physical or material needs that behaving morally would compromise?
Regarding the boss example – on a more benign level – I’m also thinking of Jesus’ admonition in Matthew, “when you pray, do it in private, behind closed doors. And your father in heaven, who sees it, will reward you in private.” As a general rule, it would be a bit calculating if I did a good deed for someone, and wanted to make sure he knew that it was I who did the good deed. Yet, in a work environment, it is sometimes important to “toot one’s own horn”, to let the boss know exactly what you’re doing, lest there be a miscommunication on the matter.
But again, that kind of understandable self-interest can come to a head, when it is suddenly “common sense” that is being pitted against more deeply held values (Peter denied Christ because he wanted to survive, an understandable motivation).
In the artist example, the willingness to make sacrifices is for the love of the work as an end in itself, not for the money (or even the fame and recognition, though these lie closer to the work itself than does the money). It’s Kantian, in a way – pursue the work as an end in itself, not as a means to an end. You don’t sell out your art, just as you wouldn’t sell out your child.
A couple of examples of what I think wittgenstein was talking about – regarding making sacrifices for the love of one’s art, for something true to oneself – come to mind. The first is from Stallone, speaking to students at the Actors’ Studio about how he sold the Rocky project; the second is from Rod Serling, being interviewed by Mike Wallace, when the Twilight Zone first debuted.
"I delivered the script. They said, ‘very nice. We’re gonna buy it from you. We’re gonna give you twenty grand, and we’d like to have Ryan O’Neal play the part, or Burt Reynolds.’ I said, ‘you know, I really had my heart set on this.’
‘But, no one knows you.’
I said, ‘I understand that. But I’ll work for free.’
He said, ‘it doesn’t work that way.’ So they said, 'will you take 80 grand [note: 1976 money]. And then he said, 'we’re also thinking of going with Redford. If we go with Redford, we’ll give you 200 grand. Now you understand, I had sold my dog. I couldn’t afford dog food. I had $106 bucks in the bank,between me and oblivion. Now it was at $200 grand. So, Redford showed some interest, and so did John Boorman. They said, ‘okay – would you take $300 grand?’ I said, ‘oh my God…’ Now you understand… We could’ve used it. We were really down and out, and I said, 'I can’t do it. I know it would maybe set us up the rest of my life, but I just can’t look into the mirror and go ‘what if?’ You’ve come this far you’re whole life, and right here…you can’t sell it, can’t do it. So they said, ‘330. And finally they said 360.’ I said, 'let me explain something. Don’t make the movie. Don’t make the movie, because I’m never gonna sell it. And they said,‘well, you’re crazy!’ I said, ‘I understand that, but I’m never gonna sell it.’ So they came back and said, ‘fine, you’re gonna do the movie; you’re gonna get paid $340 dollars a week. That’s it.’ And I said, ‘fine. The minimum was $20 grand. And then after taxes, the agent, whatever, it was literally about 8 grand. So I was more than happy.’
Mike Wallace: I don’t mean, now seriously, I’m not asking for figures here, but obviously The Twilight Zone is your own creation. You’re doing it for money. I think that our audience would be fascinated to know, and again I don’t want to get too specific, but how rich can a fellow get under these circumstances?
Rod Serling: Well, if the show is successful, he can get tremendously rich. He can make a half a million dollars, I suppose.
Mike Wallace: Half a million dollars a what? A year?
Rod Serling: Over a period of three or four years, I suppose. But, Mike, again this sounds defensive and it probably sounds phony, but I’m not nearly as concerned with the money to be made on this show as I am with the quality of it and I can prove that. I have a contract with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer which guarantees me something in the neighborhood of a quarter of a million dollars over a period of three years. This is a contract I’m trying to break and get out of, so I can devote time to a series which is very iffy, which is a very problematical thing. It’s only guaranteed twenty-six weeks and if it only goes twenty-six weeks and stops, I’ll have lost a great deal of money. But I would rather take the chance and do something I like, something I’m familiar with, something that has a built-in challenge to it."
Guilt is conveniently regarded - and discarded - as an archaic notion…